


Sweet Dream (Part Three: The Drop-In Remix)

by Liondragon (Sameshima_Shuzumi)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Batman is Not Real, Dramatic entrances, Espionage, F/M, Gen, Irish Steve Rogers, Jealousy, M/M, Tony is jelly, outside looking in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sameshima_Shuzumi/pseuds/Liondragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has all the cool friends, and Tony wants to be one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dream (Part Three: The Drop-In Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my re-start resolution, in which I will post because posting makes me happy, and I'm not going to worry about appearances. In this case, a part 3 of a maybe-sequel—with neither parts 1 nor 2 posted—of an AU-cubed in a format of which I'm not fond that isn't even the series pairing and only hints at the bizarre three-way sexual-and-yet-not lockstep in the background. For future reference: post Cap2, rating for swears. Yes, Tony forgot Sam's name, it makes me uncomfortable. Yes, Ada Lovelace is one of Tony's heroes, headcanon that. Yes, nonexistent footnotes might mean something. Yes, I do have a boner for dramatic silhouettes. Feel free to do as I do: enjoy.   
> Backdated 30th June 2016: Congratulations to the 26th Anonymous Guest for leaving the 50th kudos! Thanks for dropping by!

**1.**  
"Holy shit!" 

That's Tony.

Steve doesn't break stride, and doesn't look over. "Hawkeye, extraction now from the southeast corner. Cover them."

"Got it, Cap," and Clint Barton skitters away, or whatever the ninja sneaking term is, to leap up a nearby fire escape.

Tony looks up at the dented dumpster where Clint had made his landing, grumbling under his breath. 

Cap does a 360. "How're the comms coming, Iron Man?"

"They were coming along just fine until Legolas Leadfoot scared the bejezus out of me." But Tony's hands are moving, though that doesn't mean his mouth has to stop. 

It's a bit dark but maybe Steve's smirking. "Situational awareness, Tony."

Steve always brings the college freshman out in Tony.

With a significantly more almighty crash, Thor lands next to Steve, swinging the hammer inches away from Steve's maybe-smirking face. Thor says, "The field is cleared, here. Shall we away?"

"Let's," says Steve. Doesn't even glance at Thor, he's scanning said field. The hammer whirls close enough to lift both their blond hairs. Dramatic golden locks.

"Eat my shorts," Tony says to Steve as Thor gets under the non-shield arm, and whisks them, hammer-style, away.

Tony was fourteen when he was a freshman.

 

 **2.**  
The thing is, Steve has super-hearing. Enhanced, whatever, he insists his ears are the same size as before the serum, so maybe he's got flying rodent ancestors. Steve narrows his eyes at Tony and asks if he's insulting the Irish.

Natasha, the troll, says, "You know what they say about big ears."

That throws everyone off into about three tangents, and the moment is lost.

*

The thing is, Tony has someone who totally does with him what he wishes he could do with Steve.

No, not _that_. Though he is Tony Stark: _that_ is never off the table.

Rhodey used to, except he takes that PTSD seminar stuff pretty seriously, so now he always knocks first or texts first or uses that dorky hailing frequency they came up with after playing Battleshots with hard cider and Colt 45.

It's Pepper who can sweep in next to Tony, high heels soft on carpet until they're not on carpet, Tony walking fast because his mind's ahead of him, Pepper striding along because it's Tony's job to keep pace with her. They click along like clockwork, like a chambered magazine.

"Will that be all, Ms Potts?"

They smile the smiles of two people who are totally badass and who've earned every damn dollar, screw you Dad.

"That will be all, Mr. Stark."

*

So Tony should not be jealous when Nick Fury steps out of the shadows like a 1970s conspiracy flick and Steve fails to blink. 

Yet he is.

Even if it's Tony's car that Steve gets into, tangibly disgruntled after the whole creepy SHIELD inner-circle elbow-rub.

 

 **3.**  
"On your left!" hollers the new guy. 

Steve just raises a hand and with the wings _Tony built_ the new guy hauls him over the edge and into the thick of battle.

" _Oh, come on!_ " Tony yells.

 

 **4.**  
They are on their way to an honest-to-Tesla lobster roll truck when Steve steers Tony into a Brooklyn alley.

Tony is thinking this is another I Was Beat Up Here Ninety Years Ago detour when Steve steers them past a sous chef on a smoke break into the back of a diner and then cuts around some potted shrubbery to an outdoor café. 

"What the hell, S—"

"Sergei!"

Tony gets a brief impression of huge sunglasses and a grandma kerchief and an honest-to-Lovelace fuzzy cardigan before the Black Widow grips one Captain American shoulder and tips Steve into a lusty kiss.

Tony spins like a turntable. He takes a mental picture of the show, because. Captain America. _Black Widow_.

"Nessa," greets Steve. Then he's fucking speaking Russian to her, which sounds vaguely unconstitutional, particularly given that the words Tony's picking up are almost all cheerful sexual innuendo. Judging by the quick yank of heads returning to menus and mobile phones, some of the locals can confirm the post-Soviet filth tripping from Cap's lips. And just like that Steve's got an arm around Natasha's neck, and they're walking.

With a jerk of his head, Steve gets Tony moving. He gets on Steve's free side because: Black Widow. He wouldn't want to spoil her shot, unless she's here to kill him, in which case putting a Steve wall between them, good idea.

Tony can multitask. He is both annoyed and turned on. 

They're walking into a different building now, up stairs, and Tony's turning off his own phone when they switch theirs off, despite that being such a bad, bad call if people start shooting, but he's got his AI safety-net so he probably won't get dead right away.

Now they're weaving around a rooftop obstacle course. Tony hasn't even said anything! He deserves an award. And a lobster roll.

Finally they stop next to an actual water tower. Steve backs Nat into one of the wood supports. Wow, thinks Tony. I'm in a Hitchcock movie. 

"You should expect a bill from the government for using Captain America as a drop location," Steve growls.

Natasha smiles sunnily. "My usual drop was surrounded by Russian mafia. Hey, you've been practicing."

Steve flushes but does not explain. Interesting. " _A thaisce_ ," he murmurs. "That was a little too close."

She rolls a shoulder in acknowledgment, message received, noted, deemed inconsequential because they're three Avengers on a secure rooftop. No sightlines, Tony checked. See, Tony can do cool ninja things too.

" _Solnyshko_ ," she adds with a more demure grin, and Steve allows her to give him a peck on the cheek in their weird regime-destroying ritual. 

Steve returns solemnly, "Take care of yourself, _a cushla_."

"Make sure Barton gets to medical," she says in farewell, turning on her heel.

At last Steve is taken aback. "What!"

"What's wrong with Clint?!" Tony hisses.

Natasha spares them a princess wave as she walks away. "He'll be fine, I made sure. See you around. You too, Stark."

"The hell was that," Tony turns to Steve immediately, since she's going to do her Catwoman thing anyway.

"Three tails was what that was. That I spotted. Probably more. She was passing intel," Steve shrugs. 

"Well, what is it?" Tony makes grabby hands.

"I have no idea." Steve pauses as that sinks in. "What, I have about seven pockets on me."

"Unbelievable." Natasha felt him up and he doesn't even know how. Tony would try a pat-down if he weren't sure he'd lose a finger. 

Steve ducks a little as he finds the nearest balcony. "Sorry about the lobster rolls."

"I'm not mad about that," Tony says truthfully, but he doesn't explain. He just follows. Apparently that's all he's good at, when it comes to Steve Rogers. Always a step behind.

 

 **5.**  
A step behind, Tony bumps into Steve's broad back and can't help but swear.

It's dusk, Tony's been trailing Steve through a not-that-unpleasant stroll as he checks on his people (Clint will live, as per usual, unless he sustains a Jello-related injury). They're overlooking the skeletal skyline of the Navy Yard. The Winter Soldier has just leaped from motherfucking nowhere, and with a spray of gravel, tucked-and-rolled to crouch next to Steve.

Seriously, it's a roof garden and there is a distinct lack of ledges. 

Steve falls in step like the space next to him was always reserved for the sexy slink of former Fist of HYDRA, black ops enemy number one, left arm gleaming in the dying sun like a Cannes Festival credit scene Bucky Barnes. Tony is not going to bother with hyphens, because, fuck.

This is Batman-level shit and Batman's not even real.

They stop at the brink. Tony hurries along in case there's some epic life-changing battle or something. Not that he'd do much good against two super-soldier besties. Maybe he can get a decent angle for Snapchat.

"You got it, punk?" 

Steve shrugs, and hey at least other people are equally annoyed by that. Steve says nothing when his pal starts frisking him, uh wow, mental pictures, and it doesn't help that this little smile is tugging on Steve's lips.

"Jerk," says Steve fondly.

Barnes waves the flash drive under Steve's nose. "You peek?"

"You kidding me with this?"

He narrows his eyes at Steve, and Tony does tense up. 

"She coulda stuffed a grenade in your pocket and you wouldn't check!"

"Bucky," says Steve reasonably. "If Natalia wanted to kill us, we'd be dead."

"Valid point," Tony has to allow.

The narrow eyes swivel to Tony, and the Glower of Impending Death is dialed back to sincere mystification. Like Barnes found something weird floating in his water bowl. Not that this diminishes his cool factor. The man even leans cool. Tony has never been remotely that cool. Flashy and fashionably gauche, yes, but at his smoothest Tony can admit that he will never be _smooth_. 

Granted Barnes might be leaning because the arm is unbalancing his spine, and Tony opens his mouth to offer his incredibly expensive expert advice when Steve steps forward for the bro-hug. 

"Don't be a stranger," Steve says into the mostly-metal shoulder.

Barnes seems choked up. 

Tony turns away. Genuine Emotions, fuck. They even look cool doing it.

"I hear ya, pal," says Barnes. He turns to Tony with more of the same consternation, then decides on, "Nice meetin' ya."

"Tony," says Tony. "Drop by anytime."

Barnes gives him another odd look before rappelling into the night. Early evening. Whatever. 

Steve stares in the direction he disappeared for long minutes before sighing, deeply. "I shouldn't have dragged you along."

Tony is still plotting design changes for grappling hooks, so he's jolted back to attention. "What? I. Wait, this was. I mean, wasn't it?"

"Did I ruin our not-date?" Steve says. He's toeing the dirt. Actual Captain America toeing the dirt with his hipster-but-not-really boots.

"No!" Tony gestures at the general not-ruin of the afternoon. He has at least fifty voice messages demanding his attention since he skipped out to spend his lunch-hour with Steve. "No, it was cool. Uh. Grappling hooks. And your terrifying comrades."

Steve eyes him but doesn't rise to the bait. It's not like Tony added the in-arms part.

They start shuffling away in the general direction of civilization. "It was a lot of spy stuff," Steve ventures. "Didn't you always want to do that, as a kid?"

There's a part of Tony that bristles. It's mostly stifled as Steve brushes his arm with Tony's.

"Astronaut racecar driver pilot," says Tony. A touch stiffly. "I thought about sheriff for a while but I think that was mostly the shiny badge."

Steve takes a long look at Tony's face, and starts laughing. Slapping Tony on the back and leaving a bruise kind of wipe-his-eyes laughing. "Tony," he gasps. "Tony, you're a superhero. You grew up to be what you wanted."

"Fuck," Tony says, his grin wide and hurting his face, holy shit. Holy shit. "I win at life!"

"You do," Steve agrees, and he opens the door because he's a gentleman, and Tony is winning so hard.

 

 **+**  
Tony recognizes that Steve is successfully deflecting from the big itchy question, because Tony is usually the opposite of an idiot. Steve won't illuminate his weird threesome with the From Russia With Love set, no matter how Tony pesters.

"I told you, it's not mine to tell," Steve says, wearing that face that says he's trying not to be mad, but standing like he's way past mad. Then his face collapses into a thinking mode, and Tony knows he's screwed. "This isn't why you're annoyed," says Steve.

Yup, screwed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bruce wisely scurries away, though not without a disloyal science-bro "Bullshit" under his breath.

Steve sighs. Does he always have to look so sad when he pulls the puppy face? Hazardous to his health.

"Something's bothering you, Tony."

"You bother me," says Tony, safe behind his shades.

Steve refuses to be riled, though he does raise a brow. "O-kay. Why?"

And the truth is Tony isn't that bothered.

Because the reason, he's about 98.6% sure, that Steve never lets Tony slot in at his elbow like a well-oiled cog in a densely-packed badass gift-to-humanity chassis is that Steve always turns to Tony. 

He always turns. Like Tony has become aware of the weird way he always zeroes in on Steve.

Tony can't say this to Steve. But he's got to say something, or else Steve will worry at it like a dog on a high-caloric bone.

"That whole thing," Tony gestures. Expansively. "Your people."

"My... people?" Steve blinks.

"You have this thing where you're walking along and they jump at you out of nowhere and you don't skip a beat. Your heart rate probably doesn't budge. You," Tony points at Steve's chest, and Steve looks down at his finger, "You let your friends make _entrances_."

"Entrances," says Steve slowly. Like he doesn't understand how flipping smooth he is. Fonzie-level smooth, and Tony may not expose Steve to that cultural reference because he might get even cooler. 

"Your posse," says Tony. His gestures are starting to border on the obscene, but Steve doesn't seem fazed. Freedom of expression, baby.

"I don't understand," Steve says. Though he seems to be chewing on it. 

"Believe me, I've outgrown the need for a full blasting soundtrack for my drop-ins, but what do I have to do, Rogers? Smoke bombs? Fireworks? Dancing horses, no, robot horses so there's no harming animals, but, but okay, I realize I am throwing a fit but I've _done_ all those things. And more." He grips Steve's shoulder, willing him to understand. "And I'll never register as anywhere close to awesome enough to stalk out of a backlit mist with your ridiculous crew of synchronized hotshots. Do you even know what you look like? Marching out in formation with not-unheard-of explosions at your back? Hero silhouettes, Steve! Or are the shoulders so wide that you can't fit me in the shot?"

Steve burbles a laugh, spots of color blooming on his forever-boyish cheeks. "But Tony," he says, "I always let you do that."

Tony flips his shades up. "What? What are you—?"

"You're noisy," says Steve.

"I am... not _always_ noisy!" says Tony, wondering if he should be offended. If he should take some hot yoga class and learn to be quiet and perhaps redesign all his houses to have active noise cancellation. Hey, new market for SI, cool.

Steve shakes his head. A warm hand grasps Tony's arm. "You're Iron Man."

"I am he," confirms Tony.

Steve quirks a brow. His lips pucker in a pink half-smile. "You wear a metal man-sized aircraft capable of traveling at hypersonic speeds which you routinely use to bust up the pavement..."

"...every time I land," Tony says, and he's gaping because he honestly never noticed how often he's skid to a halt, repulsors at the ready, sometimes with bullets and mini-projectiles already engaged, right beside Captain America. To Steve he's a tank, he lands like a _missile_. Tony only hears what gets piped in, but in the open air of combat, he goes off like a bomb. 

Tony's shades fall off his face. Steve isn't enough of a gentleman to catch them with his super-soldier reflexes. Tony never liked that pair.

" _You've never flinched._ "

"Ask your AI," says Steve, suddenly unsure. There might've been a time or two that he had. Especially in the beginning.

"I never look at you," says Tony, half defensive, half hesitant that it'll be taken the wrong way.

Steve perks up. He hooks his hand on Tony's elbow, and grins. "That's what makes it cool."

Because when Iron Man crashes in next to Captain America, they are almost always immediately back-to-back and spinning to take on a world of enemies. Taking it _down_.

Boo-yah. Because sometimes Tony's twenty-one and on top of the world.

"Hero silhouettes, huh," says Steve. He's mocking, but he sounds speculative.

Steve's probably gonna paint something. 

Tony's gonna fucking pull every camera shot out of their battles and fix the lighting and edit them into gifs and use them to break the internet. 

"We're awesome," Tony declares, and arm-in-arm, he lets himself be led.


End file.
